There was a young lad of Hoboken,
Who only owned cups that were broken;
He’d pour and he’d pour,
The floor always got more,
That thirsty young lad of Hoboken.
There was an old man in a shack,
Perched precariously over a crack;
They said he’d fall in,
He just gave ’em a grin,
That unworried old man in his shack.
There was an old lady of Godric,
Who developed an awfully odd tic;
Whenever she’d cough,
Her eyebrows would pop off,
That peculiar old lady of Godric.